Connecting The Dots

Discussing the threads of my own passions which have culminated in my work as coach, mentor, presenter in my own business.

Our big old country

Mary Johnson - Sunday, August 26, 2018

I am sitting here in Pukaskwa National Park on Lake Superior. It’s a thick forested oasis of quiet and nature. 7 days ago Neil and I, along with dear friends, left on an adventure we have talked about for 40 years. It’s a multi week, cross Canada trip to the Maritimes. We are pulling the trailer. Yup I am doing some of driving! The days have been steady movement across this big old land. Parkland, vast prairie, no fences all the way to the horizon, full of grain that feeds us and the world, the Canadian Shield with it’s ancient rocks and dense forests. It’s only been 7 days as I said and it feels so very much longer.

You can’t drive mile after mile and not have it affect how you engage with time. It stretches before you like the land itself and you begin to move in a less structured rhythm. Yes you want to be places but if it’s today or tomorrow it really doesn’t matter. You are invited into Kairos vs Kronos time. Something with more ebb and flow and a spaciousness. Less linear and relentless. Your breathing eases and your belly relaxes.

On our daily evening walks, as we shake off the effects of long hours in the car, we have wondered what it must have been like for the early settlers, to have come from so far traveling very much slower than we, to wonder if they would ever arrive at their destination. What courage it must have taken to leave everything and everyone one you knew behind for what you hope is a better chance for you and your children. Women in particular must have endured great loneliness being away from sisters and friends and miles from neighbours.

Something else has made itself known in this space we are enjoying. A habit of thinking we have caught ourselves in. It’s looking at the newness before us and relating it back to something familiar. ‘Oh this is just like ______.’ There is always something we are reminded of. I have been gentle calling my friends and myself out. This is new. To see it with it’s own beauty and characteristics. Not to shape it into our familiar. Isn’t that why, or one of the reasons why we set upon this adventure? To see new. Not more of what we have already experienced. It’s not easy. Unfamiliar is uncomfortable. It’s hard to be uncomfortable.

The rain is dancing on the roof. There are no other real noises out there. It’s like a lullaby calling me to rest.